


A View To Steal

by nbarker1990



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10034474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbarker1990/pseuds/nbarker1990
Summary: Everyone watches television.





	

**SEASON SIX**

 

She’s trying to convince Zuma to detach himself from her legs – with very little success – when she hears the volume on the television suddenly go way, way up. “You sure you don’t want to watch, Gwen?”

 

There’s not much point in giving an answer, and she’s guessing her mom doesn’t expect one either. They’ve been through this a few times now, and she’s always had a quick answer for exactly why she can’t watch. Mostly, if she’s honest, it’s lack of time, but maybe also because she doesn’t want to get too invested. Last year Jen had literally ended up crying over the phone at one young girl’s elimination and she’s had enough heavy emotional shit going on lately without that, too.

 

“Hon, this one’s reggae-ish. You sure you don’t want to come see?”

 

By the time she’s dragged her and her little boy and her baby bump into the living room (Zuma’s sitting firmly on her foot, and she’s pretty sure her toes are going to be mangled for a week), the contestant has left the screen, and the commercials have come back on. Not quite as enticing. Gwen sits down anyway, getting her sister-in-law to scoot over to the other end of the couch.

 

Ten minutes later, as a Carson voice-over announces when the next auditions air (and just the sound of him makes her realize how much she’d love to catch up with her old friend), she’s trying to untangle her thoughts. She misses music, that’s the sum of it. The enthusiasm from the kids on the show and even from the coaches is… enticing, and she wants some of it for herself. It’s a greedy, selfish thing.

 

“Good, right?” her mom asks excitedly, interrupting her thoughts. “That last one has a _lot_ of potential,” she adds, parroting what Usher had said only moments before.

 

“The cowboy’s funny,” she says, blurting out the first thing that comes into her head. “Blake something, right?”

 

Jen gives her an odd look, and she refuses to examine the why of it all: _why_ the dumb jokes had made her sides ache and _why_ her family seem so relieved at her reaction. Self-examination is wonderful for song-writing but in her real life right now? Gwen has enough on her plate.

 

 

**SEASON SEVEN**

 

It’s the first time Ran’s been out to see him in months and he knows he should be happy about it. She’s curled up next to him on the couch, wearing one of his shirts and pouring herself regular shots from a bottle of vodka that he keeps just for her. Blake’s not sure exactly why he’s been feeling so restless lately, but he kind of hates it. Life is good, dammit. He’s successful, wealthy, admired, and he has a fucking gorgeous, talented wife.

 

“Blake, can you stop moving so much? I swear, I’m ‘bout ready to kick you off.”

 

So he stops his fidgeting, something he hadn’t even realized he was doing. Picking up bad habits from Adam, he wants to tell her, a joke and a justification in one. He doesn’t, though, because she’s scowling at him and the last thing he wants is ruin the fragile peace they have going on right now.

 

“Mmm, probably should’ve turned a little earlier,” she says, and he’s torn between elation (because she so rarely seems interested in this part of his job anymore) and annoyed (because it’s HIS job and he sort of knows what he’s doing, after all). She cocks her head to the side, and he watches the way a smile slowly creeps across her face as the next singer begins. He loves her so madly at times like this, when she’s all soft and happy and they can just be a normal couple together. He likes being reminded of why he fell for her in the first place.

 

“Did I tell ya Pharrell gave me his number the other day? ACTUAL Pharrell. He’s a pretty nice dude.” Easy conversation, nice and light.

 

And the smile fades. “And her?”

 

“Gwen? No, don’t have her number, sadly,” he replies with what he hopes is a carefree grin. “She’s awesome, though. Much more…” He waves his hands about a bit, looking for the right words. “Normal than I’d expected.”

 

“Not a diva.”

 

“Not a diva,” Blake confirms, turning his head back to the screen as the coaches start chatting to the young man onstage. “She _cares_ , y’know.”

 

“You like her,” Miranda says, and the tone of her voice makes him want to take back the words he’s just spoken. There was nothing wrong with them, per se, but sometimes she gets in a certain mood and, well, it’s best to tread lightly. “I remember when Don’t Speak came out, right? Everyone wanted to be her. Or be with her.”

 

Blake’s not surprised.

 

He pours his wife another drink.

 

 

**SEASON EIGHT**

 

It’s only been three weeks, and she sometimes feels like it hasn’t quite registered yet. Gavin’s still sitting next to her, Apollo snug and warm in his arms, and this is her _family_ , and yet…

 

“Gwen, I think it’s about to come on if you wanted to - ”

 

She switches the channel to NBC and calls out to the older boys. “King, Zum, it’s about to start!” They race in, all carefree smiles and messy hair, and it makes her realize that maybe she’s a better actress than she’d always thought.

 

One of their therapists had once told her that when shit happens, it’s usual for a person to cling to normalcy, to something that makes them feel good, even if it’s a _brief_ break from reality. Days after seeing her husband’s texts to Mindy for the first time, she’d discovered that reality television could be that something. Her and Gavin still aren’t exactly speaking much (“I need some time to think,” she’d said and – smart man – he hadn’t questioned it), and she’s spent day after day lately in bed, Apollo tucked at her side, eyes half-glazed through endless episodes of wedding dress shopping and home renovation.

 

Pressing a kiss to Kingston’s head as he lays in her lap, she turns to the screen, suddenly struck by an acute jealousy of Christina Aguilera. What she’d do to be back there, surrounded by those boys, their laughter and calm and friendship…

 

_“God, Adam, do you ever get sick of losing?”_

 

And his voice.

 

She’s never really found Southern accents particularly attractive, but something about the warmth in Blake’s tone, the familiarity of it, has her mood swinging back to close-to-the-verge-of-tears.

 

Her husband’s hand comes out, touches her shoulder, and she shrugs it off in disgust. He’s been sleeping in a spare room, and even though she knows she should be considering how they can get through this newest challenge, the mere thought of him and their ex-nanny fucking in her bed has her looking at new mattresses online in her spare time.

 

Blake gives the young girl onstage a huge hug, his long arms coming around her, and Gwen squeezes her eyes shut against the craving for comfort.

 

She’s lonely.

 

 

**SEASON NINE**

 

“You DVRed it, right, Dad?” Kingston jumps over the back of the couch and flips right onto the cushion. Gavin pats the space beside him, glad the silent treatment is over. It’s been a rough couple of days, and apparently his apology has finally been accepted, thank god.

 

“Of course, baby. You sure you don’t want to just wait till you get back to Mum’s house next week, though?”

 

His son shoots him a stern look that has him wilting a little inside. He sure as hell doesn’t remember being this composed when he was nine and it’s kind of scary, really. Sighing, he pulls the menu up. It was the thirteenth episode last night, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Kingston leans up against his shoulder momentarily, nudges him. “Thanks. I know you probably don’t want to watch,” he continues hesitantly. “I can watch myself if you want? I just want to make sure I don’t get behind, y’know. Mom said we can go next week. To the set to watch them actually tape it and everything, which is pretty awesome, and Bl - ”

 

And yeah, his kid shouldn’t have to be careful about what he says (specifically, whose name he mentions), but it’s kind of an unspoken thing right now. Gwen’s been including _him_ in their lives more and more this past month, and even though he’d never admit it out loud, he hates it. So much. They’re _hi_ s family. Taking a deep breath, he presses play, and squeezes King’s knee. “It’s cool, mate. C’mon, let’s see your mom kick some butt.”

 

He loves seeing his children happy and engaged, and it’s not like Gwen and her new boyfriend are flaunting their relationship on the show or anything (not yet, anyway) but Christ almighty, it’s just too much – her smiling like that at him, the way they bloody _sparkle_ with joy. Clearing his throat, he lets King know he needs a short break. The kitchen bench is cool against his back, and he takes a few moments, takes a sip of his wine.

 

When he wanders back into the living room, Zuma has joined his older brother and they’re literally leaning forward on the couch, gazing intently at the screen. “This is the one Blake was talking about,” Kingston says to the blond. “Pretty sure he wins against the one with the guitar. Reckon we can meet him when we go hang out on set?”

 

“We can ask,” Zuma says with a casual shrug.

 

“Or get Mom to. He can’t say no, then.”

 

His sons laugh, and he wants to join them, be a part of it, but he knows what’ll happen the minute he gets closer and they realize he’s there. Like freaking clams. And so he stands in the doorway, his grip tight on the wineglass.

 

 

**SEASON TEN**

 

“Blakeee, Blakeee, Blakeee!” Apollo’s apparently past the tired stage and into the hyperactive one, and Gwen laughs loudly at her boyfriend as he tries to gather the toddler up in his arms. Blake’s awesome at playing with her sons, but she has to admit it’s still crazy fun watching him learning to manage the more day-to-day tasks that come with living with three young kids.

 

Eventually taking pity on him, Kingston steps in, blocks his younger brother in, allowing Blake to lift him up by he ankles and toss him over his broad shoulder. It’s a sight that has Gwen’s chest tightening with that now familiar sense of rightness. There are no guarantees in life, she knows that, but a year ago, she’d been in maybe the worst place she’d ever been, and now…

 

“Babe, I’ve captured this monster, and need to know where to lock him up. Any suggestions?”

 

“Ah, now,” she says, giving Apollo a little tickle on his exposed tummy. “There’s this horrible, stinky, filthy place called a bedroom, which might do the trick.”

 

“Moooom” he squeals. “Helppppp!”

 

“No mercy,” Gwen says with a wink, before getting up to walk them to her youngest’s room. “And boys, you can go grab a drink of juice if you want. We’ll be back once your brother’s tucked in.”

 

It’s five minutes into the show before she tugs Blake down to sit beside her on the couch. Zuma and Kingston are sprawled out on the floor in front of them, and she’s struck by how much like a family they feel. It’s sort of weird if she thinks about it for too long, that this total cowboy country singer guy belongs with them now, but it’s precious, too.

 

He squeezes her hand, kisses the side of her head. “Mmm,” he says quietly. “Felt weird without you, y’know.”

 

“You did six seasons before you even met me,” she says with a soft laugh. “Don’t even.”

 

“S’true, though,” he insists. “Missed you.”

 

They’re interrupted by giggles. “Are you trying to _dance_ , Blake!? Adam like rolled his eyes so bad just then.”

 

“What, you don’t think I look super cool like that, King?”

 

Her son snorts, and she nuzzles into Blake’s side, trying to stop her own laughter. “Apollo’s more co-ordinated than that!”

 

“Ouch. That one hurt, bud. One day y’all be begging me to show you those moves, I’m tellin’ ya.”

 

She blinks at that, because of _course_ they don’t intend to break-up, and Blake’s virtually moved in now, and, well, this is IT for her, but the casualness of ‘one day’, the assumptions implicit in that statement, and Kingston’s apparent acceptance of that without a second thought…

 

Blake hums, the sound resonating in her own chest, as he positions them so she can sit between his legs and lean back against him. “Love you.”


End file.
